Hello, Botanists and Druids!
Do you have a green thumb? Maybe a gift for working with plants? Do you feel more drawn to greenhouses and garden centers, or even fields and forests, rather than the paved and manufactured feel of the city? Then get your fertilizer and trowel, because…
This week’s Writing Group prompt is:
Conquered By Nature
RULES AND GUIDELINES BELOW!
Make sure you scroll down and read them if you haven’t! You may not be eligible if you don’t!
We’ve seen it time and again, haven’t we? Mostly on television, sure, in those “explorational specials” or documentaries on ancient civilizations. But imagine what it would be like to push through the vines and the brush and find evidence that you weren’t there first. Imagine how utterly mind-blowing it would be to discover someone else had already come and gone, hundreds of years before you were even a thought.
Now is your chance to explore from the comfort of your home! Now you can venture out into the uncharted lands of wherever and beat back the vines and the brush. What would you discover?
Perhaps a long ruined city stands before you, trees growing through what little of the buildings are left standing while vines and briars twist, turn, and snake over everything in sight. Wild roses and all kinds of flowers and vegetation grow wherever they please. Where artificial colours and places once stood, where bustling and numb crowds once called home, now a whole new kind of life thrives freely.
Only your imagination and research can tell what truly happened here. Maybe the animals in the zoo finally broke out of their domesticated life and wiped humanity from the slate. Or maybe it wasn’t a zoo at all, but a council of druids that were tired of humans taking advantage of Gaia’s gifts, and taking her once lush and lovely world for granted. Perhaps the ents that guard the oldest forests finally rose up to topple the logging industry, and the rest of civilization with it for fear that it would just start all over again.
Every tree tells a story, but only if you cut it down and count the rings. Will your curiosity be sated just to look upon the overgrown greenery, or will you dig too deep and suffer Gaia’s twisting and entangling wrath?
Now that the seed is planted, nurture it, and let it grow into whatever lovely idea it wills itself to be. Drink from its sweet nectar to feed your imagination and fuel your pen.
—Shawna
—
Remember, this is part of our weekly Writing Group stream! Submit a little piece following the rules and guidelines below, and there’s a chance your entry will be read live on stream! In addition, we’ll discuss it for a minute and give you some feedback.
Tune into the stream this Saturday at 3:00pm CST to see if you made the cut!
The whole purpose of this is to show off the creativity of the community, while also helping each other to become better writers. Lean into that spirit! Get ready not just to share what you’ve got, but to give back to the other writers here as well.
Rules and Guidelines
We read at least four stories during each stream, two of which come from the public post, and two of which come from the much smaller private post. Submissions are randomly selected by a bot, but likes on your post will improve your chances of selection, so be sure to share your submission on social media!
Text and Formatting
- English only.
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- Your piece must be between 250-350 words (you can use this website to see your wordcount).
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What to Submit
- Keep submissions “safe-for-work”; be sparing with sexuality, violence, and profanity.
- Try to focus on making your submission a single meaningful moment rather than an entire story.
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- Submissions must be self-contained (everything essential to understanding the piece is contained within the context of the piece itself—no mandatory reading outside the piece required. e.g., if you want to write two different pieces in the same setting or larger narrative, you cannot rely on information from one piece to fill in for the other—they must both give that context independently).
Submission Rules
- One submission per participant.
- Submit your entry in a comment on this post.
- Submissions close at 12:00pm CST each Friday.
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- Be constructive and uplifting. These submissions are not for a professional market, and shouldn’t be treated as such. We do this, first and foremost, for the joy of the craft. Help other writers to feel like their work is valuable, and be considerate and gentle with critique when you offer it. Authors who leave particularly abrasive or disheartening remarks on this post will be disqualified from selection for readings.
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- Understand that by submitting here, you are giving us permission to read your submission aloud live on stream and upload public, archived recordings of said stream to our social media platforms. You will always be credited, but only by the author name you supply as per these rules. No other links or attributions are guaranteed.
Comments on this post that aren’t submissions will be deleted, except for replies/reviews left on existing submissions.
Shelter
by Petra Snyder
The distant sound of footsteps can be heard, a chase between two parties. The stag burst forth, the wolf behind her, racing in an ancient dance. A little cave is where we are, and where our racers came. The wolf, familiar with our home will have the upper hand.
As the stag forces her way through the entrance, the wolf leaps through the air. “Hear me!” she cries. “Hear my request! My pack needs food for the winter.”
The stag replies, “Explain your methods before I run away. You have little time.”
“There’s food and supplies within these walls. I ask that you grant us access. Use your horns to tear up the small holes keeping the food away.” said the wolf. Unbeknownst to him, the monologue had provided ample distraction for the stag to make her escape.
Hornless as she was, she thought the wolf a fool as she darted around corners through corridors. Headbutting her way through thin, spinning walls, up strange craggy rocks, and across long forgotten pits.
Immediately, the wolf was tailing the sound of her great hooves. but among the great sounds were sickening smells and hurdles that troubled him to a point of discouragement.
It was here the stag hid out of view from the wolf. Their chase was nearing its end. With her smell covered up and her figure stashed away, she hid among the hurdles and supplies. Along the way, the wolf carried himself through the halls of the cavern. Light shone through holes in the walls, dappling the stag’s hide, yet amongst all the hurdles and holes in the floor, the wolf would not catch her today.
The Dark
By RVMPLSTLTSKN (The Saga of The Deep One’s Wake)
The young man, more curious than his twin, walked the dark halls beneath Osareph’s temple. He knew he shouldn’t be here, but the rumors beget curiosity within him and he needed to know.
His torch, shuffling footfalls, and shaky breath were the only sounds in the halls. He approached the oubliette slowly, half expecting nothing to happen.
“Are you there?” he asked.
His voice echoed dimly in the dark hall. There shouldn’t be an answer. He, along with his brother, had locked her away down there weeks ago. She should be dead.
“Who?” A voice hissed back, quiet as a mouse.
“Are you alive?” he asked, despite himself. He knew Osareph’s teachings on how to handle restless spirits, how to bind them until a higher priest could deal with them. But spirits couldn’t talk, could they?
“Who’s asking?”
“I-I would rather not say.”
A laugh, hoarse and cruel. “I said you’d be back.”
“You said other things as well.”
“I said I’d make you a great apologist.”
He blinked, slowly breathing. She hadn’t said that. Had his brother been down here?
“No,” he said, “you didn’t.”
“I said I’d make your mind wander. It’s the same thing, to your master. How’s his lip?”
He tried to peer into the oubliette, but only muddy water could be seen below the grate. “Healed entirely.”
“As twisted and scarred as his soul then. How fitting.”
He shifted his weight. “How can you make me a great apologist?”
“The usual way. Conversation. And I don’t want anything. No food or drink. You can think on that all you like.”
“Will it help if I do?”
“Probably not. Your goal is not a thing I can promise, just guide.”
“How can you guide me if you die of starvation?”
“The same way I can guide anywhere. Just call out ‘Whisper, Whisper, in the dark.’ I’ll hear you and you’ll hear me.”
“‘Whisper, Whisper, in the dark?’”
“Yes!” Her voice hissed in his ear.
He scrambled back, back away from the oubliette, back through the halls, back to his bedroll.
Her voice laughed the whole way.
The Autumn Fall Road
By Cansas
Leaves crunched under Lamdin’s feet as he took his morning walk along the Autumn Fall Road. He liked it because no matter the time, season, or weather, the trees were always shades of brown, orange, red, and yellow. Leaves rained down like snowflakes, yet the branches never thinned. There was an odd presence in the trees that made him not feel so alone.
Lamdin grew more curious with each year that passed without a blade of grass nor a single green leaf. He’d heard whispers of a curse that lay upon the forest and some mutters about a witch. He was sitting at the Swooping Salmon Inn late one night. Only the bartender, Old Kesar was there. If anyone knew the truth about that strange forest, it was Old Kesar.
“Only dead things grow in those woods,” was the bartender’s reply. “Where the trees now stand, there used to be a valley. In the winter it was covered in glittering white snow, and in the spring flowers of every color flowed throughout its rolling hills.”
Firelight and shadows danced on Old Kesar’s face as he turned his gaze onto the fireplace. “Until war came. A terrible battle was fought one summer day between Clan Hawkins and Clan Netherwolves. It is said that neither Hawk nor Hound survived that day. The guardian Omissa was infuriated by the hatred, the greed, the selfishness, which drowned the valley in a thick coat of red. It soaked through the earth and tainted its soil. Instead of guiding the fallen souls to Morgail, Omissa turned them into seeds and trapped them in the ground. Each seed over time grew into a towering tree with dead leaves and blood in place of sap. The souls remain alive and aware, imprisoned forever behind bars forged in the fires of their war.”
Old Kesar met Lamdin’s eyes and Lamdin felt as though a sinkhole had opened in his stomach. “The only thing that grows in war is death. So it is, The Autumn Fall Road leading through the Forest of Hawks and Hounds.”
“The Metamorphosis of Teddy Ramos”
By Hemming Sebastian Bane
Teddy Ramos was an ornery man. Every day he wasn’t in the World Beneath he cursed the sun as it came up. He cursed the rooster as he crowed. He cursed the cows for not moving fast enough. He even cursed his poor wife, Betty, for not getting his bacon crispy enough. Everyone in Oldtown knew that Teddy Ramos was not to be trifled with, lest his words lead to bullets flying. Some even thought Teddy liked being ornery: as though acting like a rattlesnake with a thorn in its tail was something to be proud of.
Many times people ran to the other side of the road just to avoid him. Teddy didn’t even try to hide the smirk as he watched them leave. Yes, Teddy was a right piece of work during the day, but at night, he somehow got worse. Ask Bob, Jim, or Dean down at the tavern who starts the most fights, and you’ll hear Teddy Ramos’s name without hesitation. Eschewing wine and beer, the man went straight to hard liquor whenever he stood at the bar. It’s a shame, too; according to Betty, Teddy was a right sweet fellow after a few glasses of wine. You didn’t need to guess what Teddy was like once the liquor was in him.
That was until a stranger rode into town and asked Teddy to help on an expedition to the World Beneath. Teddy was elated. His cows were rail thin and not worth anything at market. His laying hens had no more eggs. He needed some money. So, within three days, Teddy went with the stranger in black down the tunnels to the World Beneath. The stranger had promised the trip would only take a week at most. Three MONTHS passed before we saw Teddy again.
He had changed. That angry fire that fueled his entire being it seemed was snuffed out and cold water sloshed in its place. I tried to ask him what happened, but he froze and couldn’t answer. Whatever happened in the World Beneath, it wasn’t good. I have to find out.
Giant in the Plants
By Jesse Fisher
A green planet floated in the habitable region around its star. The sky was obstructed by the green mist that the water carried with it. The land was decorated in shades of violet, many of the creatures seemed to lack red in coloring while the sun was out.
Yet this tale does not focus on the vast amount of life that has evolved in this world, no a remnant of what led to this world dynamic change calls to us.
It was to be a weapon of war, something to enact the will of the once advanced being of this world. Only to wake to a world that was long since forgotten that it was ever a thing. It looked like a biped with a set of arms and a V shaped crest on its head. Its original color was long since lost on the vegetation that grew on it while it sat.
It moved from its waking place to the world outside. It found its birthplace to be underground with thick roots covering the once planned launch point. Confusion was its first thoughts before it began to question why it had thoughts.
Much time was spent just sorting itself out, as it had access to all the knowledge in its birthplace, it also found the mass unit that held the complete history of sister units.
What it found were either incomplete or units that could not deal with a realization of what they were. So here it sat under a green sky, cyan seas, and violet land.
Punishment
by Gerrit (Rattus)
Narine did her best to choke down the soup that had been placed in front of her. Although ‘soup’ may have been too strong a word. It was little more than a broth of hot water and ground mushrooms.
She had always hated mushrooms. Which was unfortunate, given that they were one of the only things to eat in these parts. Hard to grow much else when you only get sun once a week.
But this was their penance, after all. She supposed it would lack effectiveness if they liked it.
She wondered how good things were before the Great Sin. They had sunlight every day, vegetation of all kinds. Yet they craved more, and ended up with far less.
Now she was left to wander a world of near-perpetual twilight, subsisting on fungus and small game. Communities gathered around geysers and small volcanoes for warmth.
In an attempt to create a better world, their ancestors had only created a worse one, one where all of humanity was subservient to the whims and wills of the world. And any who were brave or stupid enough to venture too far away from home usually ended up as an easy meal for demons, now free to wander the world without sunlight to deter them.
‘Damned demons. This is all their fault to begin with,’ Narine thought. ‘Least they could do is be a food source.’
But everyone who ate demon flesh became Tainted, which was, it seemed, a fate worse than death.
Demons really were good for nothing.
Narine finished off the last of her ‘soup’, rose from her seat, and grabbed her weapon she had left leaning against the table.
The False Moon had just risen, and she had a long day ahead of her.
Yesterday was Light Day, which meant demons would be out in full force today. What a perfect day to get some revenge.
High on Olympus
by Alexsander Edwards
Ah. The small, yet lovely pleasure of taking the literal fruits of your… well, the mortals’ labors and enjoy them. There are few things in this world more relaxing and pleasant than a fine wine, really.
And this one tastes absolutely divine! It is quite the most exquisite thing. I owe Demeter one, she even put a nice little “For Dionysus, with love” card on those spices! They truly make this wine an incredible- hey, what’s that tugging on my-
WHOA, hold on! Hold on, hold on, hold on! I’m the lord of wine, I’m supposed to have control over grapevi-
OUCH, okay, fine, you have your own free will, apparently. OW FUCK, I DEMAND YOU STOP WHIPPING- hey, wait a damn minute, is that a PLATYPUS?! Why is it holding…?
Shit, shit, stop pelting me with the damn grapes! I swear to Me, if that’s Zeus, I’m gonna strangle you!
C’mere, you little bast- wait, where did the stupid animal thing go?
And are those grapes… laughing at me?
Why is it getting dark all of a sud-
OH SHIT, THEY’RE GETTING BIGGER! No! No, no, no, no, no! Stop growing! I demand! Stop it! I can’t breathe! I can’t- AAARGH!
—
Nearby, under an arch, Hera observed the God of Wine and Revelry alongside Pasithea, who was too busy rolling a joint to care.
“Pasi?” the Goddess of Maternity said. “Did you do that?”
“By proxy, maybe,” the Lady of Hallucinations replied, stealing one of Hephaestus’s embers.
“What was that in your father’s wine?”
“Oh, nothing too serious. Just opium.”
Hera stopped for a moment, observing her daughter smoking as she processed what had just transpired. “I have one question,” she eventually said. “Why?”
“He thought pissing off some of Demeter’s followers was a good idea.”
Hera looked back at Dionysus, who was now very much preoccupied with writhing on the floor. “So that’s why the air conditioner is out of control today…”
The Broken Wheel Turns Once More (Mary’s Story)
By Calliope Rannis
“Oh Mary, don’t be scared.”
Sometimes, when her mood darkened, Mary would remember the voice of her father, as much as she tried to forget him.
“You need not fear pain, or disease, or even the torment of ageing anymore.”
In that, he had been right. For over two years, she hadn’t felt what she had once known as pain, and no disease could touch her anymore. In that time, she had feared that even her time itself had stalled.
“I have taken them all away.”
Yes, he had. By feeding her a poison so toxic and pervasive, that it had not only killed her, but everything inside her too. So that when he reanimated her, she would not decay…
“Now, you are free to live.”
Until he took her freedom away too, that is.
But things had changed. She had escaped, and she had made sure that he wouldn’t follow. She had walked the woods again, she had found her mother’s house again, she had reconnected to nature again.
And now…
Mary peeled away the clothes from her chest, and forced herself to look down, no matter how much she might hate what she saw.
There, nestled within the valleys of old scars, was something new. A mottling of sorts. New spots on dead skin. A spreading of darkness on what had once been pale white.
Mould. Mildew. Rot. The things her poisoned body was made to repel, and yet here it was, only a couple of years late.
Mary stared at it for a while.
She should be horrified, right? She knew that if she could see this, then this was just the surface. That there was far more growing beneath her skin, spreading across her body, eating her away.
But to her surprise, she didn’t. She didn’t feel worried, or even sad. She felt more at peace than she had been in years.
Because now, she knew there was a part of her that breathed. And if she had to embrace Time again, to reconnect with the world and all its life…she’d make that choice every time.
[Removed]
Hunter and Prey (A Song for: Kit)
by Lunabear
No iron bars.
The stars had never looked more clear, more beautiful. Her heightened sight caught far off streaks and the brightest lights miles above her.
No chains.
A breeze’s featherlight kiss chased over her abused skin. It tangled within her hair and gently swayed the hem of her white sunflower dress.
Clean, FRESH air.
How long had it been since she’d felt this?
Her eyes stung with the encroachment of hated tears. Such weakness. Her bottom lip quivered. Her fangs bit into the sensitive flesh but just as quickly released their painful pinch.
She clamped her hands against her silent chest, trembling from her unseen conflict. The tears clung to the precipice of her lower lashes. She lifted her nose to the sky, sniffing for his scent. She scanned the distant horizon and lingered over the tall grasses.
‘He isn’t here,’ she mentally assured herself. ‘For now, you’re safe.’
Her Maker wasn’t there.
Her head tipped back, and she smiled to the heavens. Relief caused a waterfall of tears down her face, and it felt so GOOD. The rush of it nearly sent her to her knees.
A strained, soft laugh fell from her, and she gasped in joy that she could still make the sound.
White hot thirst pilfered her of the moment. It scorched its way up her throat and forced crimson into her vision. She doubled over from her clawing, empty stomach. She groaned and whimpered as her entire being sang out its agony.
A different onslaught of tears assaulted her. She took a shuffling step forward, then deeply inhaled. Nothing.
Another step. Sniff. This scent was earthy and cool. Distinctly female.
Step. Sniff. Nothing.
Step. Sn-
THERE. To the south. Light and sweet, like brown sugar. She recognized it as male.
A reluctant smile stretched her face as she followed the delicious, aromatic trail.
It was her first solo hunt, and she was going to make herself enjoy it.
If she DIDN’T enjoy herself, he’d know. If she ran, he’d find her and never let her go again.
She was going to prove her worth.
The Burden of Truth
By Adrian Solorio
From behind the concrete rubble, Deniz and Isra scanned the grounds of the ruined library for movement. And Isra once again attempted to warn Deniz off his foolish mission. “You’re courting death, Deniz,” she said. “One of us will be killed. Let’s turn back before it’s too late. If you give these stupid ideas up, the Elders will forgive you–I’m sure.”
“I’ve come too far to give up now.”
Isra frowned and unclipped her lazer-whip.
“Watch the shadows,” said Deniz. “We don’t want to be surprised by anyone or anything–not now–not this close.”
Isra whispered hollowly, “If there’s anything dangerous: man, animal, or mutant, their ass is grass. Just find what you need–and fast. Won’t be long ‘fore the locals catch our scent, and when they do, we don’t want to be here.”
“Looks clear,” Deniz said. “ Let’s go.” They zig-zagged from one pile of rubble to another till they reached the inner-alcove of the library. Inside the smell of books, mildewed and musty, mixed with hundred year dust which lay on the marble floor like a fresh-snow. “Nothing’s been here for ages,” said Deniz.
“Mutants fly and crawl, too.” Isra snapped her whip on, and it whirred and vibrated an angry red. “Besides, some things are more dangerous than mutants.”
They crept deeper into the cavernous hall until they reached a row of computers. Deniz used a powercell to turn on the machines, then he began his work. He searched for the files that told the story–the true story–of civilization’s fall. Isra read the articles and documents over his shoulder, and the more she read, the more she frowned, and the tighter her grip on the lazer-whip. Mankind had destroyed itself in its attempt to conquer nature–to become Gods. “This will destroy the Elders,” said Deniz. “The people need to know–”
“No!” Isra’s whip sliced and sizzled the air. “They don’t. The truth is better left with the dead, Deniz.” His head fell from his body and thudded to the floor. The Elder’s had warned her about Deniz, but she had refused to accept the truth–until now.
Lies, Deceit, Reflections, And Leaves (Students of the DiamondBridge Academy universe)
by Carrie (Glaceon373)
Vice Principal Nicklescribe removed his pen and notebook from a jacket pocket.
Buses? Check. Arrival at the campsite? Also check. Activities? Running smoothly, check. Meals not poisonous? Double check.
The last item on his list, “Plan Two,” wasn’t checked.
He put his things away. It was time.
“Apologies,” he said to the air around him, which also contained a few of his colleagues, “but I need to check off — pardon, check with — the camp’s staff. I will be right back.”
“Hm?” Mrs. Tizip, the closest teacher to him, turned. “Oh, go right ahead!”
She smiled pleasantly, except her grin brimmed with shark-like teeth.
Nicklescribe gulped. “Thank you,” he forced out before nearly sprinting down the dirt road towards the camp office… then stealthily ducking into the trees.
The faint wind drifting past almost whispered to him. Murmured that maybe, just maybe, this was a mistake.
From another pocket, he removed a coin-sized mirror and looked into it. He held it there for a few more paces, then chuckled to himself.
“Of course,” he whispered, “it’s not like they’ll be in any REAL danger.”
Nicklescribe pocketed the mirror and quickened his pace.
The forest broke into a small clearing. Nicklescribe spun a spell between his fingers and whistled through it. Then, he waited.
One by one, animals emerged from the trees, their eyes glossed over, quivering from the whistle.
He needed something big, something tough. Flimsy creatures failed Plan One, and the school couldn’t afford a Plan Three—
A log splintered behind him.
He turned and stared into the face of a brown bear, its enchanted eyes blinking distantly.
Nicklescribe smiled. “You look just stuffed with rage, don’t you?”
The bear didn’t respond.
From a secret pocket, Nicklescribe removed a sealed bag of dried leaves and petals of unnatural hues. “Open wide, would you? You won’t feel any pain until the whistle wears off. But you won’t feel anything anyways, truly.”
The bear opened its gaping mouth. Nicklescribe tossed the bag in whole.
Then he ran back the way he came as fast as his three-piece suit would let him.
Dirty Jokes
By NocteVesania (CW: dirty jokes)
Kat’s eyes widened as scenes of unimaginable horror unfold within her crystal ball. In them, green haze crawled through streets, the city’s metal signs rusting and stone buildings crumbling to dust to its touch. In its wake, tall grass and mighty trees sprung out, completely replacing the concrete jungle with an actual jungle.
“Th… the Witch of the Wilds,” Kat gasped, “she’s…”
“What is it? And chop-chop. Yours truly has a date.” Lucas brushed his hair to the side, one eyebrow raised, waiting for a reaction.
“They say a witch went rogue long ago,” Kat explained, ignoring Lucas’ dumb expression, “her powers were drained and she was exiled, but she swore revenge once she gathered her strength again.” Kat turned to Lucas, her eyes wide in disbelief. “They called her the Witch of the Wilds.”
“Wild, just how I like ’em. Know what I’m sayin’? Hey-yo!” Lucas put his hand up for a high-five.
“Ugh! This is serious!” Kat scrunched her face, looking back at the crystal ball. “She’s coming.”
Lucas snickered.
Kat watched images of robed mages attempting to contain the haze, but it just kept coming. “There’s too much! It’s getting everywhere!”
Lucas snorted, biting his lips as his cheeks turned red.
The haze, unaffected by the mages’ efforts, enveloped the crowd. Kat gasped as she watched the haze wash over the people, leaving behind only still figures, sparse leaves and branches jutting from their wooden bodies. She starts to panic. “What should I do? This is way too big for me to handle!”
Lucas, no longer able to control himself, blurted out, “THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!” He whipped his head back, cackling and wheezing.
Kat smacks Lucas’ arm with the back of her hand. “GROW UP!”
Fighting Procrastination
By MasaCur
So, the next prompt is “Conquered by Nature.” What to write? Whaaat toooo wriiiiite?
I mean, I guess I have time to think up an idea. It’s still the weekend. Maybe a nap is in order.
Okay, it’s Monday. Well, let’s read the prompt introduction. I might be able to get an idea from that. Well, usually good for an idea or two. Ummm, nope, still got nothing. I really should just…I don’t know. I need to spark my creativity.
What if I just wrote the next chapter of Ridgecloud? It won’t fit the prompt. But I’ll be writing something.
Or, maybe I’ll catch up on my mobile games.
How did it get to be Tuesday already? I still haven’t come up with anything. Think, Derek, think! I need to… okay, I can’t do that anymore. The whole, think, person, think, just makes me think of that Omniman meme.
That reminds me, Invincible was so good. I should really rewatch that.
Well, I still have nothing. I really should get to bed. It’s okay. I’ll go visit my parents tomorrow. I can usually get something done while I’m over there.
It’s funny how I don’t miss network television until I do. I mean, this just isn’t fair. How can you get away with airing a Star Wars marathon in the middle of the week? How can I expect to get any writing done, when this is presented to me? I’ll…uh, I guess I’ll just have to work on it when I get home. It… it will be fine.
I’m sure I’ll come up with an idea then.
How is it Thursday night already? This is ridiculous!
Okay, I have it. I’ll read some other people’s stories. I’m sure something will give me an idea. And I can get some reviews written while I’m at it. I mean, it will probably be half-assed, but, yes, this will work.
How many times do I have to read the same story again and again until something sticks in my head?
Maybe I’ll just skip this week.
That Boy Needs Some Therapy
By Marx
Matt unleashed his wings for the first time and all the realms felt it. He practically saturated the surrounding area in his magic. His wings were so massive that they blacked out the sky. They had no definition or depth. It was as if they were a shadow that tore wing-shaped holes in reality wherever they touched.
Every magical being knew to be terrified. And every non-magical being was terrified anyway.
Matt screamed.
The sky wept.
The Earth trembled.
Death prepared herself.
And Laila knew the stakes as she forced her way through the buffeting winds of Matt’s power.
“Matt! You need to calm down! Please! You don’t want this!”
Matt turned his gaze to the angel. To his familiar. To his first real friend. The tears welled in the obsidian depths of his eyes, but the winds quickly tore them away. Laila could feel his pain. With their connection, she had no choice but to. Still, she stood.
“I’m sorry! I’m so… so… sorry! It’s not fair! It’s not! But you don’t get to be this angry! Everyone else can, but you can’t! You’re not like everyone else!”
With every word spoken, Laila took another step towards him. And every step hurt. He wanted more than anything to be left alone. To drown in his despair. She was defying his will. Every instinct she had cried for her to fall to her knees and let him do as he would.
She forced another step.
He needed to understand that he wasn’t currently in control of his power. His power was in control of him. And it was about to give him what he wanted.
To be left alone.
Because there would be no one else.
One more push and Laila was able to throw her arms around him. If his power was going to destroy everything, he’d have to watch her die first.
And just like that, it was over.
Matt took the chaotic magic back into himself and everything became quiet.
Existence was safe.
And Laila clutched him that much closer as he allowed his tears to fall.